Pushing Buttons
by smalld1171
Summary: One-shot of some brotherly banter because I miss it. Rated for minor swear words.


**Pushing Buttons**

_This was a chapter in a longer story but I thought I would post as a one-shot cuz I miss me some brotherly banter. Rated due to minor swear words._

_Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!_

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"Come on dude, get the lead out!" Dean blows out the air in his cheeks as he seems to wait. And wait. And wait some more for his irritatingly slow brother to figure out just what could be considered healthy eating in yet another fricken greasy spoon; in yet again the middle of nowhere; on the slow road to him losing all sense of whatever thread of patience he had left.

Sam makes some sort of noise but doesn't look up. It's all Dean can do to stop himself from leaping across the damn table and holding a fork to his brother's throat; anything to speed up this long, drawn out process.

His legs start to jump up and down under the table and when he notices a glare from one of the patrons across the aisle, he assumes his 'don't mess with me' look came off just how he wanted it; as the dude looks away to focus on something of sudden interest out the window.

Sam finally closes the menu and looks to his brother with a definite smirk on his face. A damn smirk? And that is what makes it impossible to reign in the scowl as it arrives and perches itself on his own. "About time dude, I am going nuts over here. Let's just order, eat and get the hell out of this dive okay?"

"What's wrong with you today Dean? You got somewhere you got to be or something? Just relax man, let's take our time, read the latest and see where we should go next."

The food arrives and another gust of wind escapes from the confines of Dean's lips as he just stares in disbelief; as Sam takes his damn time; as he unwraps the napkin as if it is made of delicate lace; as he drizzles the sauce on his limp salad.

Dean watches his brother leisurely open up his laptop and lean back in the booth, complete with full body stretch. The kicker is that the whole time he is still wearing that damn smirk. Dean looks to his own food and even the burger and fries that sit in front of him have lost their appeal. This sucks ass.

He's pretty damn sure he can hear the clock on the wall; and maybe even the crickets outside. He can't sit still for this long. Sure, eating might be something that has to be done but can't it be in a timely fashion? C'mon, he is bored out of his fricken tree here, so he stares at his brother for all it's worth.

"You know dude, the longer you look at me like that the more time I'm gonna take to finish up this oh so delicious meal. You need to chill out and just sit still for like twenty minutes."

What? Dean's lips make a thin line as the realization dawns on him. Sam is doing this on purpose. To piss him off. To mess with him. Because Sam knows him well enough to know exactly what buttons to push. Well, nice try but two can play at that game. And Sam should know by now that when he starts this kind of shit, Dean is sure as hell gonna finish it.

"Oh, yeah, right. Of course. Tell ya what Sammy, this burger looks so damn delicious that I am going to savour it for..." he stops and makes sure that Sam looks at him as he glances to his watch. "...the next hour. And I'll do it to bro, because I would hate to make you scarf down that awesome salad of yours. After all, what are brothers for right?"

Ah, that's better. The look of amusement is now replaced by one of shock and of being out done once again by his big brother. Sammy, such an amateur. Dean will enjoy every single moment; see how well Sammy can handle the boredom because his is now totally gone; totally erased from existence. The thought of making Sam's little plan backfire in his face has upped the ante, and his need to put this shit hole town behind them is nothing but a memory. Let the game, and Sam's torture, begin.

Dean flashes Sam his best, high wattage smile and chuckles as he picks up his burger to bite off just enough to barely get a taste. The moan of pleasure he expels gets the reaction he was hoping for; a deep sigh of frustration from across the table. He looks up from his suddenly delectable meal to meet his brother's eyes, dabbing his mouth with a napkin as he does. "On second thought Sammy, better make it two hours. This, right here? Pure heaven. Bitch."

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_End. Thanks for stopping by! _


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